


Lighthouse

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Cuddling & Snuggling, Inspired by Fanart, Lighthouses, M/M, No Dialogue, Nostalgia, Reminiscing, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley visit a village where Aziraphale was once a lighthouse keeper





	Lighthouse

For a season Aziraphale lived in a lighthouse. He’d been told to go to a village for a blessing and while he was there he’d found that the local lighthouse was in need of a keeper. 

For a season no ships foundered on the rocks. 

The villagers remembered that time, passed on local stories of the Good Winter, when no sickness had touched the village, when the harvest and the sea were plentiful, when the lighthouse shone bright and strong. 

It was several centuries later when Aziraphale returned to the village in the company of a demon. He smiled as he saw the place, still nestled along the shore, though it had grown and the lighthouse had fallen into ruin. 

They walked the streets side by side, anonymous among the summer tourists. Aziraphale pointed out a few things he recognized, though time had done its usual job of erasing the past. 

Gradually they found themselves in a pub near the old docks. Aziraphale claimed that it had been there since before his stay. It certainly felt old, timbers stained by centuries of smoke and floors worn by innumerable feet. 

Besides the barkeep It was nearly empty, save a single couple sitting by the window, enjoying lunch and one another’s company. 

The old man behind the bar poured them each a drink before they reached the bar. Aziraphale smiled and paid him, inquiring about lunch. He nodded and vanished into the back. 

On one wall hung a painting of the lighthouse in its glory days, shining bright against stars and fog. Crowley saw wistfulness in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

The barkeep returned with food and Aziraphale dug into the fish and chips with gusto. Crowley sipped his drink and watched Aziraphale, noticing when the young couple made their way out. 

The barkeep kept their drinks full but didn’t bother them. Aziraphale left him a generous tip. Crowley left a demonic blessing; the place would be full later that night and it would not be forced to close, as the barkeep feared. 

Sated, they headed out and wandered down to the docks. There were more tourist shops and fewer fishing boats these days, but it still felt grounded and real, not yet overrun by those from out of town. 

Aziraphale located a bookshop and they went in. He browsed the stacks and found a history of the village, flipping through it until he found the Good Winter. He smiled as he read the time-softened story. There was no mention of the lighthouse keeper, only that it had been in operation and no ships had been lost. But it was best that way. 

He purchased the book and pocketed it and he and Crowley resumed their wandering, finding their way to the shore. 

Like drawn by a siren’s call they made their way to the ruined lighthouse. The light had long since been removed and time and the sea had torn down bricks, leaving gaps where more seawater and rain could get in. A strongly worded sign warned people of the dangers of climbing in or on the structure.

Fortunately, they weren't people.

Aziraphale led the way inside, hands touching once familiar stones. He spoke quietly of his winter there, a time of solitude and rest for him. They mounted crumbling stairs until they came out onto the platform where the light had stood.

The sun was going down, casting the sea and sky in shades of pink and orange. They sat close together and watched it, one sunset in the millions they’d seen, and yet one they’d both remember.

As the stars began to peek out overhead, Aziraphale leaned against Crowley’s shoulder. Instinctively, shielded by the growing darkness, Crowley let his wings loose, protecting Aziraphale from the sea-breeze. Aziraphale made a contented noise as the lights in the village came on. 

They stayed there as the moon rose, just watching, listening to the sea and the faint sounds of the village.

Finally, Aziraphale stirred from his thoughts, stepping out of the protection of Crowley’s wing and stretching. He offered his hand and Crowley accepted it, hiding his wings and letting himself be led back down, moonlight peeking through gaps in the stones.

They reached the bottom and walked out onto the spit of land to find that the tide had cut them off from shore. Now it was Aziraphale who loosened his wings, easily putting an arm around Crowley and carrying them both to the mainland.

Crowley didn’t argue about being carried, simply tucked his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder and breathed him in. He could have flown himself, but this was better.

Aziraphale set him down and smiled softly. Crowley leaned in and kissed him gently, tasting the salt on his lips. Aziraphale brought his wings around them both, kissing him back.

They broke apart at the sound of some humans farther down the shore. Quietly, still holding hands, they walked back towards the village. They’d stay the night before Crowley would drive them back to London and their usual lives. But they might come back or they might visit other places that held meaning for one or the other of them.

And before they left the village completely, Crowley would purchase Aziraphale a little statue of the lighthouse as it had been, something to stand guard in his bookshop and remind him of a season spent watching the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosley based on [this](https://twitter.com/gemennair_art/status/1175809359877509122?s=21) fanart. You can find me on twitter at merindab.


End file.
